A Series of PostWar One Shots
by JeanNicole
Summary: Exactly as the title says. Some are after the epilogue some are between Voldy's death and the epilogue. Various points of view. They should be chronological. More to come. I don't write them in order, though, so the last one I posted is a new CH. 2...
1. Peace

"Peace"

By: Jean Lyons

* * *

It's been a few weeks since the war ended. Mrs. Weasley is really having a hard time of it. They all are. I am, too. Fred was my friend. But I think she and George are taking it hardest. It's only natural. Look at George, for example. Imagine seeing a face exactly like your own dead on the ground. Fred had been his best friend. He and Lee Jordan stuck together during the funeral. One third of their trio was gone forever. I tried to imagine how it would be if it were Ron or Hermione and I definitely empathize. We've all lost loved ones. Andromeda Tonks was wailing more than anyone at the service for Lupin and Tonks. I finally had to take Teddy away from her because I was scared she'd drop him. What kind of godfather would I be if I let that happen? But Fred's was one of the more difficult deaths to deal with. The Weasleys are the closest thing to a family I have, so losing Fred was almost like losing a brother. But Mrs. Weasley hasn't managed to stop crying since it finally set in that her son was gone. George stays away because Mrs. Weasley can seem to be able to look at him. He can't stand the fact that he's such a reminder of his brother because most people can't look at him and if they can look at him, it's to give him sad looks that make it clear that they're thinking of Fred. 

Mrs. Weasley looks up at me as I enter the kitchen at The Burrow, her eyes teary as always. She's trying to cook supper. I grab a knife from a drawer and step up beside her to help chop the carrots.

"Thank you, dear," she says, "I don't know how I'd have gotten through this meal without help. Carrots were Fred's favorite vegetable."

"They're George's, too. He's still around. Maybe it would be easier to think of the carrots that way."

"It wouldn't. I feel so guilty. I couldn't take care of Fred and now I'm treating poor George horribly. I just can't bear to see the face of one son when it looks so much like the one that's… that's…"

"It's all right. Just think, Mrs. Weasley. Fred died instantly. He wasn't in pain. It's how he'd have wanted it. Besides, he was happy. He and Percy were joking together for the first time in ages. And now, he's in a place that isn't completely destroyed by the war. Actually, sometimes I think he got it the easiest of us."

"He would have wanted it that way, wouldn't he?" she says, sniffling. I nod as Ginny comes in to help, too. She reaches for my hand and I give it a squeeze. She takes the chopped carrots to the pot so that they can be cooked. Her mother stokes her hair as she passes and Ginny gives her a reassuring smile in return.

"Mum, I invited George this time. I hope it's all right."

"Of course, dear."

"It's just I've missed him and I think it would cheer him up a bit if he thought he was more than just the surviving twin. He's still my brother, you know. And still your son."

I want to leave them alone to have a family moment, but as I turn to leave, Ginny pulls me into a hug, preventing me from leaving. I know this is so her mother won't see her start to cry and start crying again herself. I stand there and hold her, my chest tight from all this talk about Fred and George. I glance at Mrs. Weasley over Ginny's shoulder and try to smile, but I think she knows it's fake. Finally, Ginny pulls herself together and we are able to continue cooking. Just as we are about to set the table, George comes in. He just stands in the doorway for a moment, unsure of what to do. I continue setting the table and Ginny takes George by the hand and leads him into the kitchen.

"Mum…" he says.

"Georgie… I am so sorry. So, so sorry."

"No, mum, I'm sorry. I'm sorry he's gone and I'm sorry I'm like him and I'm sorry this is so hard and I'm sorry that I've been running away and I'm just so… _so_ sorry." He's tearing up now. Ginny conjures a handkerchief and gives it to him. Mrs. Weasley slowly steps closer to him and George loses it and runs to her. He seems to turn into a 5 year old as he runs across the kitchen and falls into the embrace of his mother. They begin to sob together.

"I do love you, son. I'm sorry I've been pushing you away. I know it must have seemed like I couldn't love you anymore, but that's not true. I do and I couldn't stop even if I wanted to. Look at Percy. He's finally a Weasley again after all he did. All you did was lose your brother and that's _not your fault._"

"But mum, it wasn't yours either."

"I miss your jokes," she says as they pull apart.

"It's hard to joke without him. Maybe Ron can come help with the shop. Maybe going back to work will cheer us up."

"Speaking of which," says Ron, who I've just realized is here (he must have come in shortly after George), "I've got an idea for a joke he'd have loved. Perhaps you could sell it in his memory."

"Oh, come here dears," says Mrs. Weasley to Ginny, Ron, and I. We all come closer to her and she catches us up in a group hug. A family hug, I suppose. Those of us who weren't already crying before are tearing up now. I realize I've never seen Ron cry until now, not even at the funeral. I get the feeling he'll be demanding that I don't tell Hermione later.

But for right now, we find peace in two truths:

First, Fred is happy. Where he is, there is no pain and there are plenty of jokes to keep him laughing until (hopefully not for a long time) he finally has his other half to laugh with.

Second, we are still a family, like a piece of fabric. All our lives are threads woven together. There is a frayed spot where Fred is missing, but we are no less attached to one another. It will take more than death to tear apart this family.

* * *

Yet another ficlet from me that's based on a poem/song. If I write more of these little post-DH ficlets, I may just compile them into one "story" as a series, where each "chapter" is a new story. This one was based on "Shannon" by Henry Gross. Below are the lyrics. 

"Shannon" by Henry Gross

Another day's at end  
Mama says she's tired again  
No one can even begin to tell her  
I hardly know what to say  
But maybe it's better that way  
If Papa were here I'm sure he'd tell her

Shannon is gone, I heard  
She's drifting out to sea  
She always loved to swim and play  
Maybe she'll find an island with a shaded tree  
Just like the one in our backyard

Mama tries hard to pretend  
That things will get better again  
Somehow she's keepin' it all inside her  
But finally the tears fill our eyes  
And I know that somewhere tonight  
She knows how much we really miss her

Shannon is gone, I heard  
She's drifting out to sea  
She always loved to swim and play  
Maybe she'll find an island  
With a shaded tree  
Just like the one in our back yard  
Ah, just like the one in our back yard  
Ah...  
Just like the one in our back yard


	2. My Baby Girl

"My Baby Girl"  
By: Jean Lyons

* * *

As Ginny Weasley stood in front of the mirror making sure every hair was in place, her father, Arthur, watched her with a sad smile. She may be a Weasley now, but in a few hours, she would leave this house as a Potter. Arthur was glad that she was happy, but how could he let his little girl go? True, she wasn't so little anymore, but she was his only daughter. He had to commend her choice in men, though. Harry had been like a son to him for years and Arthur knew Ginny had loved him for a long time. He also knew that Harry was a responsible man. He'd take care of her. All the same… His only baby girl! The last one to leave home. The Burrow would be so quiet. Without the children, how was Molly ever going to get used to cooking for two again? 

"What?" said Ginny, seeing her father's face.

"I just can't believe you're getting married. It doesn't feel like it was all that long ago that you were riding on my shoulders."

"Dad, I haven't ridden on your shoulders in fifteen years."

"All the same…"

"Dad, don't look sad. I don't want to cry before the ceremony even starts."

"I just want you to be happy, dear."

"I _am_ happy, dad."

"The world's a scary place, Ginny; I'm just scared of letting you into it."

"Dad, I'll be fine. Even if I _couldn't_ take care of myself, Harry can. Just trust us, dad. We'll be okay."

"I'm just going to miss you, is all."

"We'll visit. You know that. Neither of us is a very good cook. We'll starve otherwise." Arthur let out a small laugh as George stuck his head in.

"Mum says it's time, so come on."

Arthur took the hand of his daughter and led her out of the room as the music began to play. He saw Harry gasp as he saw Ginny and the look of love on his face and Arthur knew that his little girl would be in good hands. This really was the right thing to do.

* * *

This one is from "Wild World" by Cat Stevens. I love Cat Stevens. I also love the Weasley family. My extended family kind of reminds me of them. We're awesome like that. Hopefully these won't get much shorter than this one. 

Cat Stevens - Wild World Lyrics

Now that I've lost everything to you  
You say you wanna start something new  
And it's breakin' my heart you're leavin'  
Baby, I'm grievin'  
But if you wanna leave, take good care  
I hope you have a lot of nice things to wear  
But then a lot of nice things turn bad out there

[Chorus:  
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world  
It's hard to get by just upon a smile  
Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world  
I'll always remember you like a child, girl

You know I've seen a lot of what the world can do  
And it's breakin' my heart in two  
Because I never wanna see you a sad girl  
Don't be a bad girl  
But if you wanna leave, take good care  
I hope you make a lot of nice friends out there  
But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware

[Chorus

Baby, I love you  
But if you wanna leave, take good care  
I hope you make a lot of nice friends out there  
But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware

[Chorus


	3. Rose

"Rose"  
By: Jean Lyons

* * *

This morning, Hermione said she was feeling a bit queasy. But she said this with possibly the brightest smile I've seen on her since our wedding last year. I'm not completely stupid. I know what that means. She's happy because she's just learned that we're finally going to have a baby. She hasn't actually told me this yet, but I know. She's been sitting at her desk all day trying to focus on work, but she always winds up staring out the window, smiling. The sunlight, combined with that dreamy look, makes her glow. I fixed her lunch and brought it over to her, something I never do. I think she knows I know.

I can't bring myself to tell her how absolutely terrified I am of becoming a father. She looks so happy. But what am I supposed to do with a kid? I don't know anything about them. The last time I was around a baby regularly was when Ginny was one. And I was, too, so that doesn't really count, does it? What if I'm horrible at it? What if I drop him/her? Hermione would never forgive me!

She sees me staring at her. I really need to get better at controlling my face.

"What's the matter?" She asks.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" Didn't mean it to come out like that…

"Well…" She's having trouble saying anything, but that smile tells me all I need to know. Finally, she nods excitedly. I give her a fierce hug. I just know that even if I'm crap at parenting, she's going to be wonderful at it.

She spends the rest of the day at her desk unable to work, just glowing and smiling out the window. She's so beautiful. I spend the rest of the day staring.

Finally, it's dark outside and she's given up on getting anything done. We're sitting up in bed thinking, unable to sleep and unable to interrupt our thought to talk. It's just quiet for awhile. She leans her head on my shoulder and sighs happily.

"I'm happy, Ron," she says.

"Me too."

"I love you, Ron."

"Love you, too."

"I think we should call her Rose."

"What makes you think it's a girl?"

"It's just a feeling, I suppose."

"You know it's impossible to tell at this point."

"I know, but all the same… I think it's a girl. A girl named Rose."

I place my hand on her abdomen where, those who don't know any better, wouldn't know there is a tiny person. But I knew. In there was the beginning of a son or daughter. The beginning of a family. We just sit there in the wonder of life.

"I'm just so happy, Ron," she says before finally dropping off to sleep.

* * *

This one was from "Glad She's A Woman" by Bobby Goldsboro. It's all fluff and I realize that Ron is a bit (and when I say "a bit," I mean "a lot") more sentimental than normal, but I think it's kind of cute.

"Glad She's A Woman"

As she sits by the window  
She's busy with work  
But her mind isn't on what she's doin'  
She thinks back to morning  
The feeling she had  
And she's glad she's a woman

And you can see the glow  
On her face and in her eyes  
You can see she's changing everyday  
From the little girl I married  
From a girl into a woman

Late at night when I'm sleepin'  
She'll tug at my side  
Wake me up just to tell me she's happy  
I put my hand on the life she carries inside  
Then she smiles and says, "Hello, Daddy"

And my heart could almost burst  
From the love she brings to me  
I can see she's changing everyday  
From the little girl I married  
From a girl into a woman  
And I'm glad she's a woman


	4. Nargles

"Nargles"

By: Jean Lyons

* * *

"Daddy!" wailed my five-year-old son, Albus. Now, all I had to do was wait for him to explain what James had done now. "Daddy, James is being mean," he pouted.

"What did he do now, Al?" I said gently.

"He says nargles aren't real, but they _are,_ daddy! I've seen them!"

"I'm sure you have. James just doesn't understand, does he? Did you tell your mother what he said?"

He nodded.

"Well, what did she say?"

"She said he was right! That nargles aren't real!" he said, looking rather offended.

"Well, if you've seen them, then they must be real," I reasoned.

"I have!"

"Well, then don't let them bother you. It's okay as long as you know in your heart that what you believe is true. They're just silly."

"Okay."

"Now go see if you can find some nargles and prove it to him."

He ran off shouting, "See, James? Daddy says they're real!" And who am I to muffle his imagination? To stifle his personality? I grew up in a family that didn't believe in anything remotely imaginative. I always promised myself that if I ever had children (the word "if" is important here. I remember wondering if I'd ever get out of that cupboard) I'd never try to stamp out imagination. This promise to myself became stronger after the war, partly because I was finally with Ginny and the possibility of having a family was more real and partly because I knew that someday any children I had would eventually grow up, as we all do, and they would have to face the harsh reality that is the world. They would eventually encounter hate and death and evil. True, they probably wouldn't quite the same experiences as I had, but they'll face the world all the same. This war may be over, but there will always be another one. I decided that as long as they were children, they would be free to play and dream as children are supposed to. James may not remember, but just a few years ago he believed in all sorts of creatures that don't exist. Teddy Lupin, my godson, still believes in a few odd things and he's 12. He's like a slightly less loony Luna Lovegood. But it's a quality to be encouraged, though I wasn't so sure while I was in school with Luna. I'll have to apologize to her someday.

So, Albus should enjoy his childhood while he can. All too soon, it's going to end.

* * *

Yay! Another drabble done. This one is based on "Broomstick Cowboy" by Bobby Goldsboro. This song makes me all teary.

"Broomstick Cowboy"

Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy,  
Of rocket ships and Mars;  
Of sunny days,And Willie Mays,  
And chocolate candy bars.  
Dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy,  
Dream while you can;  
Of big green frogs, And puppy dogs,  
And castles in the sand.

For, all too soon you'll awaken;  
Your toys will all be gone.  
Your broomstick horse will ride away,  
To find another home.

And you'll have grown into a man,  
With cowboys of your own  
.And then you'll have to go to war,  
To try and save your home.

And then you'll have to learn to hate;  
You'll have to learn to kill.  
It's always been that way, my son;  
I guess it always will.  
No broomstick gun they'll hand you;  
No longer you'll pretend.  
You'll call some man your enemy;  
You used to call him 'friend.'  
And when the rockets thunder,  
You'll hear your brothers cry.  
And through it all you'll wonder  
Just why they had to die.

So dream on, little Broomstick Cowboy,  
Dream while you can;  
For soon, you'll be a dreadful thing:  
My son, you'll be a man.


	5. I Don't Love You

Draco Malfoy was gazing at the stars alone. This was not normal practice for him. The last time he had gazed at the stars at all was with him. Draco hadn't seen him in a few years. Not since Scorpius had found out about the affair and it became too risky. He hadn't wanted to ruin his marriage. Draco told him that if his marriage meant so much to him that he wouldn't have been sleeping with someone who so obviously not his wife. Marriages had meant nothing to Draco at the time except that they were things keeping him from being with his love in public. Tonight, Draco was gazing at the stars thinking of him and trying to sort out what he was feeling for him now. Draco finally stood up and walked back into the house and sat down at a fancy desk and pulled out a quill and began to write. 

_Harry,  
I don't know why I'm writing this in the form of a letter. You'll never read it. I only wanted to get my feelings on paper to make them easier to understand. Because, while I'm certain I loved you once, I'm not sure if I still do. It's been a long time. But I keep staring at the stars the way we used to together. I guess first impressions never leave us. The way we spent our school days was not easily forgotten and our love was doomed from the day it began. It's hard to say exactly how that was. After you saved my life and killed the Dark Lord, I guess I developed a grudging respect for you, but where exactly did it become love? Was it when I saw you again at the station, and for the first time since I'd known you, I didn't have the overwhelming urge to jinx you? Was it when I saw the way you and your wife focused on the children, but couldn't look at each other? It might have been when you ran into me later near the bathroom and we made small talk about our children and how like us they are. I realized then that you weren't some kind of superhuman thing too good to converse with us mere mortals, as I'd once thought you were. Maybe it was me who was the arrogant one. _

_But Harry, that last fight really put me in my place. You've gone back to your wife and I to mine, and still I've hated myself ever since. You, Harry, made me love myself and I can't without you. I miss you. I miss the times we had. I loved you, and sometimes you loved me, too. The nights are not the same without you. In the dark, alone, staring at the stars, the Heavens feel so immense and all-consuming, while I feel so terribly small. When you were here, that feeling went away. _

_But I just want to make clear to you and to myself (mostly myself) that I do not love you now. But I miss your embrace. I miss your eyes. Those gorgeous green eyes. I am not content without you. How could I have lost you? But, Harry, I do not love you now. I cannot love you now. This is the last pain I will allow you to cause me. The last time I will ever look at the stars and wonder if you're doing the same. _

_I thought I had trained myself not to invest my heart in anything. The one time I thought it was safe and look what has happened. But my heart has been healing and I do not love you, Harry Potter. I don't. I'm finished._

_Goodbye to You,  
Draco_

When Draco had finished his letter, he sat looking at the stars through the window for a few minutes. I really _don't_ love him, he mused as though surprised by the revelation. He chuckled to himself. The chuckle grew until he was laughing out loud and tears were running down his cheeks.  
"Father are you all right?" Scorpius asked, poking his head into the room.  
"Fine, son. Just really happy, that's all." Finally.  
"Well, good for you. I'm going to bed. Are you sure you're all right? You never laugh like that." _I laughed this way with Harry. I never thought I could alone, but I really am okay on my own._ "I'm fine. Good night, Scorpius." "Good night."

* * *

This little plot bunny was inspired by and based on the following poem, ⌠Poema 20■ by Pablo Neruda from his book Veinte Poemas de Amor y Una CanciСn Desesperada. It sounds prettier in Spanish, but I realize that not everyone in the world speaks Spanish, so after the Spanish version is my best effort at translating it into English.

"POEMA 20"  
PABLO NERUDA

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.  
Escribir, por ejemplo: «La noche está estrellada,  
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos».

El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.  
Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos.  
La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.  
Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.  
Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido.

Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.  
Y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.  
La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos.  
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.  
Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.  
Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.  
Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos.  
Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos.

Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.  
Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos,  
Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa,  
y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.

* * *

English:  
I could write the saddest verses tonight.  
Write, for example, "The night is starry,  
and they blink, blue, the stars, in the distance."

The wind of the night turns in the sky and sings.

I could write the saddest verses tonight.  
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me, too.

On nights like this, I had her in my arms.  
I kissed her so many times beneath the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her, too.  
How could one not love her wide, gazing eyes?

I could write the saddest verses tonight.   
To think that I don't have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To listen to the immense night, more immense without her.  
And the verse falls to my soul like dew on the grass.

How important was my love, that I could not keep it?  
The night is starry and she is not with me.

That is all. Far away someone sings. Far away.  
My soul is not content with having lost her.

As if to bring her closer, my vision seeks her.  
My heart searches for her, and she is not with me.

The same night has whitened the same trees.  
We, the people of back then, are not the same.

I do not love her, it's true, but how I loved her.  
My voice searches for the wind to touch her ear.

Of another. She will belong to another. Like before my kisses.  
Her voice, her clear body. Her infinite eyes.

I don't love her, it's true, but maybe I do love her.  
Love is so short, and forgetting is so long.

Because on nights like this, I had her in my arms,  
My soul is not content with having lost her.

However, this will be the last pain she causes me,  
And these will be the last verses I write for her.


	6. Work

"Work"  
By: Jean Lyons

* * *

He turned the page of the photo album and found a photograph of their wedding. 30 years, they had been married. She had looked so beautiful that day. He had only seen her in a dress a handful of times before then. He loved her just as much now as he had then. More so, really. They had been through quite a bit.

First, there was the fact that they were each other's first loves. The first real love. Both had dated others briefly, but none had ever meant so much. Then, they were married in the back yard of the Burrow as had become a tradition among Weasley children by that time. Everyone they knew had been there. It was the first truly happy event since the war and there was a slight air of sadness for those who hadn't made it to the wedding. The pictures of the family that day seemed to have an empty space next to George where Fred should have been. But at the time, they could only think about the happiness. They were finally going to be together forever!

Then, the first real strain on their marriage came after the birth of their daughter when Mr. Weasley had died of a heart attack only in his fifties. She had seemed so lost after the death of her father. The task of parenting had kept her sane, but he couldn't communicate with her. And just when things had seemed to be getting better, he'd nearly blown it.

He had definitely tested her forgiving nature a few years back. If he had any regrets, that was it. If he could go back in time and speak to his younger self, he'd tell him not to go anywhere near the man. He'd tell himself about the guilt that ate away at his heart for so long and how many months of agony he'd have to go through jumping through hoops to get her to forgive him. But in the end, she had, though the level of trust that had been there before took longer to get back. He'd been at a loss as to how to make her see that he'd repented and the guilt and self-hate that had followed him ever since he'd first followed the man into the bedroom, but finally, she was just tired of the fighting and she wanted her husband back. He never denied the affair or made excuses for it. He genuinely felt his mistake and all the pain he'd put her through.

In the end, they had been able to heal and move on, but it had taken work. It seemed that all they had done since the wedding was work. But, he decided, as he closed the album and placed it back on its shelf, it had been worth the work.

* * *

Always the one to eat my words, I said that "My Baby Girl" would be the shortest, and what have we here? A _very _short one. But that's why we call them drabbles, isn't it? They aren't supposed to be long.

This one is the ending of the series. There will be others that are inserted into various places, but this is how the overall story ends.

"Remember When"

Remember when I was young and so were you  
and time stood still and love was all we knew  
You were the first, so was I  
We made love and then you cried  
Remember when

Remember when we vowed the vows and walked the walk  
Gave our hearts, made the start, it was hard  
We lived and learned, life threw curves  
There was joy, there was hurt  
Remember when

Remember when old ones died and new were born  
And life was changed, disassembled, rearranged  
We came together, fell apart  
And broke each other's hearts  
Remember when

Remember when the sound of little feet  
was the music we danced to week to week  
Brought back the love, we found trust  
Vowed we'd never give it up  
Remember when

Remember when thirty seemed so old  
Now lookin' back it's just a steppin' stone  
To where we are,Where we've been  
Said we'd do it all again  
Remember when

Remember when we said when we turned gray  
When the children grow up and move away  
We won't be sad, we'll be glad  
For all the life we've had  
And we'll remember when


End file.
